Page 36 of The Wrong Guy

“You like my sister?” Andreas raises an eyebrow to look at me cautiously.

I nod. “Yeah, man. I do.”

“Don’t fuck it up.”

I leave at that parting statement to go over to my dad’s estate. With the number of calls I have fielded from Greg, I know I need to get over there. It must be severe if it can’t be said over the line.

When I was growing up, I never realized how often my father would make trips into town to use the payphones. He would constantly leave to go to the store to get milk even if we had a couple of gallons in the fridge. It didn’t concern me since I thought everyone’s parents did this.

I drive the miles to my father’s compound. Greg had called me again to remind me to get my ass over to the house. I don’t know who he thinks he is, but I’m not joining the ranks of a monkey-man here. I’m not just somebody who is going to follow the boss of the family blindly.

By the time I pull into the driveway. I have many questions that need answering, and I won’t leave until the answers to my questions are satisfactory.

The guns in my face, when I pull up after telling the security at the front gate who I am, is laughable. What the fuck are they going to do? Shoot the Prince of the organization? My father would whack me if I did something to hurt the family, but I know he would kill someone for hurting me.

“It’s me, Stavros,” I inform them with the windows down so they can see me.

I’m waved in with Greg waiting at the front stoop.

“So glad to see you grace us, Stav,” he dumbly states.

I’m getting out of the car and slamming the door a little harder than necessary. I hear theslamecho in the concrete jungle of my father’s compound.

“Yeah, yeah. I haven’t been home in a few days and am tired. What is this about?”

“Your father wants you.”

I stifle the need to roll my eyes. “Of course.”

“Son!”

My dad walks through the pristine entryway atop the expensive flooring he flew in from Greece. The man knows how to broadcast his wealth.

It is common practice for him not to have a lot of guests over at the house for obvious reasons. I won’t even entertain why they wanted Andreas to come to the home.

“What’s going on?”

I’m shrugging out of my suit coat and throwing it on the bench in the entryway. My father’s longstanding maid is entering the room to grab it. She looks at the coat and then looks back at me. I shrug because I know it needs to be dry-cleaned.

“Mr. Stavros, let me get this handled for you. How about you go to your old suite and get cleaned up? I will provide you with new clothes,” Magda says in her heavily accented voice.

From the beginning, my father stated he wouldn’t trust anyone who wasn't Greek to work in his home. He meant it and flew her out to work for him. Magda is probably the closest woman I have to a maternal figure now that my mother isn’t here.

“Go do what Magda told you to do. You look horrible,” my father mutters.

I’m going to my old room, which has now been transformed into a guest room. Looking around the room I was raised in, you wouldn’t have known I lived here. There is a massive bed in the middle of the room with a fireplace in front of it. The big windows off to the side overlook the grounds, including the pool.

The home I live in now would never be this opulent nor would I have made a lot of these design choices. With that being said, it was home for a long time.

I strip out of my clothes and place them on the bed for Magda to deal with when she’s ready for them. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the suit and know I have more at home for work.

I take a quick shower and let the jets work my muscles. Sitting in the hospital and thinking of all the ways to kill Derek did a number on my back.

“That was quick,”I mutter when I see the freshly folded clothes on the bed, and my clothes have been dealt with.

After doing the typical hygiene routine after getting out of the shower, I get dressed and look for my dad.

He’s out in the courtyard with Greg and someone else. The other man looks like he’s pissed off about something, but he can suck a dick. This is my dad’s house, and I’m not here for the attitude from someone who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

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